


Talk To Me

by nouseforaname



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 03:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29943648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nouseforaname/pseuds/nouseforaname
Summary: On top of struggling to cope with the aftermath of the events that unfolded last year and a harrowing truth her brother unveiled after waking up in the hospital, Darlene also longs to hear back from a certain redhead.
Relationships: Darlene Alderson/Dominique DiPierro
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. Prologue: Dark

_Darlene looks like him._

Elliot’s eyes flit back and forth as they track his sister crossing from one end of his apartment to the other. There’s a stagger to her step; it almost looks like she’s glitching out.

_Why haven’t I noticed it before?_

She rips the cushions from the couch and hunches over, her hands spread out as she searches for something Elliot can’t see. When she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, she growls out of frustration and stomps to his bed, yanking the sheets away and overturning all of the pillows.

_They have the same hair. The same skin tone. They even walk the same way._

_She definitely has his temper._

Darlene growls again, pulling away from Elliot’s bedroom and pivoting so she can head towards the kitchen. She digs through all of the cupboards and cabinets, cursing under her breath when she comes up with nothing. Flipper is excitedly trailing behind her, curiously sniffing at her boots.

_I guess that means I look more like Mom._

“Darlene.” Elliot heaves a sigh just as his sister whirls around to face him.

“What, what?” Her eyes are alight and her voice is hoarse. “What do you want?”

“You leave right after the preliminary hearing, disappear for four days, and then you show up out of nowhere, break into my apartment while I’m out, and tear the whole place apart.” He sighs again as he gestures at the mess she just made. “What’s going on?”

_She’s been like this for two weeks now. She hasn’t been the same since we left the hospital._

_Is it the trial that’s stressing her out? It must be. Who wouldn’t be stressed out by it? We’re being tried for some of the biggest crimes ever pulled in human history. We’re looking at life behind bars. We might never see each other again, at least not in person._

_I’m running out of ideas. I don’t know what else I can do for her. I don’t know if this is something I can pull her out of…but I have to try._

_She helped me. She spent her entire life helping me. This is the least I can do._

“Darlene.” Elliot takes a single, cautious step forward. “You’re not okay.”

She throws her head back to laugh, but there’s no humour to it.

 _Fuck, she even_ sounds _like him._

“No shit, Sherlock.” The dark circles beneath her eyes are the most prominent part of her face.

“What are you looking for?”

_I know the answer to this. I just want to know if she knows._

“I know you have some around here.” Darlene returns to his bedroom and crouches in front of the bookshelf.

“I haven’t done any of that in months.” Elliot shakes his head. “I’m clean.”

 _‘I’m clean’?_ He’s _been clean._ We’ve _been clean._

“Doesn’t mean you still can’t have shit leftover.” Darlene’s rummaging around his desk.

“That stuff isn’t gonna help you, Darlene.” Elliot sighs again. “When I got out of the hospital we made a promise to get better - to get better _together._ What happened to that?”

_It’s been a downward spiral since we left the hospital. She comes and goes. She’s a ghost of her former self._

_She’s obviously trying to run from something. Something is causing her pain and she’s numbing it by getting fucked up with whatever she can find._

_I’ve been there before. I’ve been there way too many times. I know what it’s like._

Darlene shoots back up to full height and half-turns to face her brother. She’s swaying on the spot; it looks like she’s been drinking too. “Do you really think I’m in the mood for a lecture right now?”

_Maybe I should try a different approach._

He takes off his messenger bag and zips it open, taking a second to dig through it before grabbing what he’s looking for and tossing it onto the small table in front of the couch. “Look - they printed another one.”

Darlene’s pallid brow scrunches in confusion, taken aback by the sudden change in subject. She turns her head to glance at the magazine Elliot tossed onto the table; the front page is covered with a blown up photo of him hastily walking down a random street, stuffing his face with fries. The words _FSOCIETY MASTERMIND COUNTS CORRUPTION, NOT CALORIES_ are stretched above his head in large capital letters.

_She’s been collecting these since the trial started. I thought this would cheer her up once I saw her again._

She cracks a small smile before shaking her head and shuffling over to the couch, briefly bending over to pick up the cushions and return them to their rightful spots before taking a seat. She sighs and leans forward, resting her elbows on her thighs and burying her face in her hands. Flipper dutifully curls up by her feet. “Mastermind.” Her tone is languid, dragging. Defeated. “Ironic.”

He chuckles as he moves to sit next to her. He eyes her exhausted expression, her tangled hair, her pale skin, her chipped nail polish; she’s angled away from him, and her head is bent in an attempt to avoid eye contact. His heart suddenly feels ten pounds too heavy, threatening to plummet straight into his stomach.

_I can’t stand seeing her like this._

_Is this how she felt when she was trying to help me?_

Elliot wrings his hands as he tries to think of something to say. “Darlene, I-”

She flops back against the couch and tilts her head back to stare at the ceiling. “I thought there was something poetic about the world pooling together the money we gave them to bail us out. Now I’m not so sure.”

He blinks at her. “Why not?”

“Because we can’t fucking go _anywhere_ without getting hounded by reporters, paparazzi…” She shakes her head again. “I ran into a few of those fsociety truthers the other day. Tried to convince me that we’re not the ones responsible for everything and we’re just taking the fall for the _real_ leaders so they can keep sticking it to the man while the world is distracted with the trial, or some bullshit like that.” Darlene scoffs. “They were having a hard time believing that a girl co-created the anonymous hacker collective that kicked off one of the biggest revolutions in modern history.”

 _My sister can code circles around the script kiddies who think they have what it takes to do what we did._ “Don’t pay attention to them. They’re not worth your time.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Bailing us out was a good thing. It would’ve been a lot harder dealing with the trial by ourselves, in individual cells, in different prisons.”

“How is this any easier?” She grumbles as she jerks her head towards the window. Elliot can hear the small group of stubborn reporters and faithful fsociety supporters gathered outside. “We’re still holed up in a tiny room with nowhere to go.”

“You haven’t been holed up.” Elliot points out. “You still haven’t told me where you’ve been these past few days.” When Darlene ignores him, he sighs. “I’m worried about you.”

“That’s a first.” She scoffs again and crosses her arms. “It’s usually the other way around.”

_Yeah, that hurts as much as you think it does._

_But I deserve it. That’s what I get for being such a shitty brother all her life._

There’s a semi-long pause. Elliot drops his eyes to his sneakers, frowning for a second before taking a deep breath. He lifts his head to glance at her. “This isn’t about the trial.”

_I always knew it wasn’t about the trial. It was never about the trial._

Darlene turns her head away from him, choosing to stare at his fridge instead. When Elliot deduces she isn’t going to give him an answer, he speaks up again. “C’mon, Darlene - I know what this is about. You haven’t been right since I told you-”

“Stop.” She hisses. Her arms are still crossed; the muscles in her forearms are tense.

_She feels guilty. I can see it all over her face._

“You know I never held anything against you for what happened.” The couch groans as Elliot shifts in his seat. “You didn’t even _know_ what was happening. I didn’t want you to know.”

Darlene stubbornly keeps her body angled away from his, but he can see her eyes glossing over. She shakes her head and quickly raises one hand to angrily wipe her unshed tears away, but she continues to give him the silent treatment.

_I have to keep trying. She can’t shut me out like this, not when we need each other more than ever._

He sucks in another breath, taking a second to steel himself before reaching out to place a comforting hand on her knee, which has been anxiously bouncing up and down since Darlene took a seat. “I wanted to protect you from him.” He inhales again, slower and deeper than the last. “I didn’t want him to hurt you like…” He falters for a second, swallowing hard. “Like he hurt me.”

_If I don’t talk about it, the memories will get suppressed again. I’ll disappear again and I’ll lose control. I can’t keep shit in anymore. I have to open up. I have to let her in. I have to let her know that it’s okay to open up in return, because if she doesn’t she’s going to disappear too. She’s going to leave again and I don’t want that. I don’t think she does either, but she’s sinking into what’s familiar. She’s falling back into old habits because it’s what she knows. It’s comfortable, even if it makes her miserable._

Darlene chokes on a sob, tucking in her chin in a feeble attempt to hide the tears streaking down her cheeks. “I made things worse.” She croaks, and Elliot vehemently shakes his head before scooting a little closer towards her.

“No you didn’t.” He insists, squeezing her knee to emphasize his point.

“Yes I did.” She sniffles. “I fucking left you, Elliot. I left you to deal with Mom and all of that shit by yourself. I could’ve done something. I could’ve…” She shakes her head as her eyes well up again. “I _should’ve_ known. The signs were all there. I should’ve figured it out, but my head was too far up my own ass to see why you did the things you did.” She lurches forward again, covering her face with her hands as she continues to cry. “I bailed on you when you needed me most. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to talk to you, or how to help you, and I couldn’t handle any of that, so I chickened out and ran away like the fucking coward that I am. Fuck, I…” She pulls her hands away, laughing humourlessly through her tears. “I used to get so fucking jealous of you, did you know that? He spent all of his time with you. He’d pick you up from school to play hooky with you for the rest of the day, and I’d be left wondering why he never bothered to pick me up too. When we went to Coney Island, you guys went on all of the rides together while I had to wait with Mom. He’d sit with you for hours teaching you how to code, and I couldn’t even get five fucking minutes with him. I spent so much time trying to figure out what you had that he loved so much, and why I didn’t have it. I couldn’t understand it.” Darlene sucks in a shaky breath. “When he lost his job at E Corp, I was actually…really happy. I thought that meant he’d have more time to hang out with me, but…” Her eyes drop to the floor. “Well, you know how that went.”

Elliot can only stare back in stunned silence, his eyes wider than they already are and his mouth slightly agape.

 _Our childhood was shitty to say the least, but it never occurred to me exactly how shitty it was for Darlene. I always felt like Mom treated her worse than she treated me, and she’s right about..._ him _acting like she never existed. He ignored her even before he became my monster._

_Maybe our parents never wanted her in the first place. They only called the cops after she got kidnapped at Coney Island because they didn’t want the neighbours suspecting anything. If it weren’t for that, I don’t think they would’ve bothered looking for her._

_Darlene spent her entire life feeling like no one wanted her around, like she never mattered to anyone. Even I know what it feels like to be wanted by someone. How could I let this happen?_

“He spent all of his time with me because I wanted to make sure he didn’t have time for you. If he got the chance to be with you, just the two of you alone, I wouldn’t be able to protect you from him. I had to keep him away.” Elliot frowns. “I needed to keep an eye on him so he wouldn’t get to you.”

“Yeah, and look what happened to you.” She laughs bitterly. “People care about me, and then they either get hurt or killed. I’m fucking poison, Elliot.”

“That’s not true.” He sighs.

“Oh yeah?” She finally turns to meet eyes with him, glaring menacingly. “Then explain what happened to Cisco. To Trenton and Mobley. To…” She swallows. “Angela.”

He can feel a tightness in his chest.

_I’m not over it, if you haven’t been able to tell._

_I don’t think I’ll ever get over it._

_She left an empty space inside of me, and I’m cursed to spend the rest of my life desperately trying to fill it._

“You’re not the only one responsible for what happened to them. I had a part to play too.”

 _“I_ recruited Trenton and Mobley into fsociety.” Darlene hisses. _“I_ convinced Cisco to go back to Susan Jacobs’ house to get that tape I left behind. It was _my_ fucking idea to get Angela to plant that femtocell. It was _all_ me, Elliot. All of that was _my_ fucking fault.” She sniffles again and swipes at her eyes. “You should’ve stayed asleep. You should’ve stayed in that stupid dream world where I never existed. Everything was perfect there. You had everything you ever wanted. You were happy, and most importantly I wasn’t there to fuck anything up.”

 _I told her everything, and I mean_ everything. _I didn’t want us to keep any more secrets from each other, and she deserves to know the truth after everything I -_ they - _put her through in the past year._

_But now I’m starting to regret doing that. Maybe it was a bad idea to tell her about the dream. She didn’t really need to know…did she?_

_No. Of course she needs to know._

“It was nice, but it wasn’t real.” Elliot frowns. “And I didn’t have everything. I didn’t have you.”

“I’m the _last_ thing you need.” Darlene shakes her head. “None of this - _any_ of this - would’ve happened if I didn’t come back to the city.”

“If you didn’t come back, I probably wouldn’t even be here.” Elliot pats her knee again. _“You_ brought me back. I would’ve been stuck in my own head forever if not for you.”

“Just…stop.” She closes her eyes, and more tears trickle down her cheeks. “Stop trying to make me feel better. You don’t have to do this.”

“Of course I do.” Elliot frowns. “You’re my sister, Darlene. I have to look out for you. I want to keep you safe.”

She jerks forward with another violent sob. “Fuck-” Her voice cracks before she collapses into a full on crying fit, and he reluctantly catches her in his arms, pulling her into an embrace as he leans back against the couch.

 _I don’t remember a lot of things, but one thing I_ do _remember is the day our parents brought Darlene home from the hospital._

 _I wasn’t there when she was born. They dropped me off at a neighbours’ when Mom went into labour and they picked me up when she was discharged. I remember how tired our parents looked, how Mom just dumped her car seat on the floor like she already didn’t want anything to do with her._ He _didn’t even look at her; he just took off his shoes and jacket and went away somewhere._

_I remember sitting on our living room floor with her car seat right in front of me. She had her tiny fists waving in the air. Her tonsils were the only things I could see. She was crying, probably wondering where Mom was._

_Her cheeks were really red. I think I reached out to her, maybe touched one of her hands or something, and she just stopped screaming, and she stared back at me. She stared for a really long time, like she was trying to memorize my face. All I could do was stare back._

_I loved her instantly._

_From then on, the only way we could get her to stop crying was to have me close by. There was a point where both of our parents gave up and decided to try the ‘cry it out’ strategy, which, looking back on it now, was probably just an excuse they used so they don’t have to deal with her anymore. They eventually moved her crib into my bedroom because she’d sleep longer when she knew I wasn’t too far away._

_She was so small, and she cried so much. I think her constant crying came from the fact that our parents never really bothered to look after her the way you’re supposed to look after a baby. It made me lose a lot of sleep, but I didn’t care. I already knew by then that she counted on me to make her feel safe. I was her big brother; I had to look after her. It was just something I knew I was supposed to do. It was second nature. I was also just really happy to have another kid in the house. I couldn’t wait for her to grow up so we could play together. I wouldn’t have to be alone anymore._

“Jesus,” Darlene mumbles against his shoulder. “I’m still making it about myself even after everything you told me. I don’t know how to fucking stop, do I?”

“I think you deserve to make things about yourself for once.” He chuckles. “You spent your entire life doing things for other people. You looked after me when we were kids, and then you handled fsociety mostly on your own because I was too fucked up to co-lead most of the time. I treated you like shit. I freaked out on you, I pushed you away, I made you feel like I didn’t want you around…but you stuck by me anyway. You showed up and you stayed.” He tightens his arms around her and presses his cheek against your hair. “It’s about time I do the same for you.”

_There was this one time when she was hungry, but our parents were too busy arguing in another room to notice. I knew she was hungry because she cried a certain way when she wanted to be fed, and I was the only one who was around her long enough to figure that out. Imagine four-year-old me grabbing a chair from the kitchen table because I wasn’t tall enough to reach the top shelf in the fridge. I was too young to know I had to warm up the bottle first, but even if I did know I wouldn’t have been able to anyway, so I fed it to her cold. She didn’t take it at first, but I think she got to a point where she was so hungry she was willing to drink whatever I put in front of her._

_I was four years old when I learned that she had no one else but me to rely on. Just me and my baby sister against the world._

_Then, somewhere down the line, the tables turned and she ended up looking after me. All of a sudden I was the one who needed constant reassurance. I was the one who needed help._

_Darlene was always there for me. She never left my side. We escaped our shitty house to hide in movie theatres together. She crawled into bed with me when Mom was being an asshole. She held my hand when I was scared and didn’t know the difference between what was real and what was in my head. She was always there to keep me from drifting too far away. She kept me anchored to reality. She made me feel safe._

_I think it’s time I turned things back around. It’s time I start being her big brother again. It’s my turn to be the anchor, the grounding force that keeps her centred so she doesn’t spin out of control._

_She needs me._

She swallows hard. “Do you remember last year on your birthday when you told me I was your trigger?” She pauses. “Well, it technically wasn’t you, but you get what I mean.”

 _I kind of don’t, but this sounds like something one of the…_ others _would say to her._ “You are my trigger, but in a good way.”

“I don’t know if there’s such a thing as a _good_ trigger.” Darlene scoffs.

“There is. You were the only thing that could bring me back, and... _they_ didn’t like that. The only reason why you weren’t in my dream was because they knew you’d wake me up. You brought Mr. Robot out because he knew you’d risk bringing me back and ruining his plans. He hated you because he knew what you were capable of doing. He didn’t want me to wake up just yet; he didn’t think I was ready.”

“But are you ready now?” Her voice is muffled against his shirt.

 _Good question._ “Is anyone ever really ready for anything? What matters is that I’m back, and I’m here to stay. I’m not going anywhere, Darlene.”

She sniffles and shakes her head. “You better not.” He can feel her shoulders relaxing.

_I think she’ll be okay for now._

“You should crash here tonight.” He pulls away from her but keeps one hand on her shoulder. “This is the safest place for you to be right now.”

Darlene gives him a small nod as she reaches up to wipe away the last of her tears. “I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon.” She plucks her phone out of her pocket, staring at the blank screen for a second before sighing and tucking it back into her jeans.

_Oh. This is probably another reason why she’s been so bummed out lately._

Elliot quirks a brow. “Still haven’t heard back?”

“No.” Her voice is wavering again, and her breaths are getting shorter and shallower. “Nothing but radio silence for two and a half fucking weeks. What if Irving lied to us? What if he just said the Dark Army stopped caring because he knew we’d let our guards down, and they-”

“You can’t think like that.” Elliot squeezes her shoulder as a gentle reminder to calm down. “I’m sure she’s fine. You said you spoke to her when we were in the hospital, right? Didn't she say she needed some time to herself?”

“Yeah, but...I dunno.” Darlene shakes her head as her eyes well up again. “It's just...this feeling I have. I can't shake it.”

“She’s fine. She has to be.” Elliot assures her. “Dom's been through a lot; she probably needs the space to process everything.”

She leans forward and runs a hand down her face. “Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if she used this as an excuse to cut off all contact. I wouldn’t want me in my own life either.”

_She gave me a rundown of everything she and Dom went through together - what she put Dom through, specifically. I guess hurting the people who care about us runs in the family._

“I don’t think it’s anything like that.” He insists. “She wouldn't lie to you. If she said she needed space, that's probably what she meant. Like I said, she's been through a lot - and even if she was laying low in case the Dark Army was for real, she slipped away from them more than once. I don’t think they’d be able to get rid of her that easily.”

“She barely made it out the last time she got away.” Darlene swallows hard. “She almost fucking died because of me, Elliot. She was going to end up like Cisco and all the others.”

“But she didn’t.” He points out. “Just…give it time, okay? Be patient. She’ll reach out when she’s ready.”

He watches her defeatedly flop back against the couch, throwing her hands up as she lolls her head back to stare up at the ceiling. “Yeah. I guess.” She swallows and turns to look away from him again. “Thanks for putting up with me. You already have enough shit to deal with and this is the last thing you need right now. It’s the last thing _anyone_ needs.”

Elliot shakes his head in disagreement. “Like I said, you’re my sister. I want to look out for you, just like how you’ve always looked out for me.” He slowly rises to his feet and gestures towards his bed. “Get some sleep. I know you haven’t gotten much of that lately.”

“I’m not taking your bed, Elliot.” Darlene protests, and she groans when he shakes his head.

“You need it more than I do.” He nods towards his bed. “C’mon.”

She heaves a sigh before relenting and standing up. “Fine.”

He lets her use the bathroom first. Once they’re both washed up and changed, Elliot grabs one of the pillows and a spare blanket from his closet and makes himself comfortable on the couch while Darlene crawls into bed. He lifts his head a few inches off the pillow to glance in his sister’s direction. She’s just settling in, pulling the sheets up to her shoulders before reaching over to the side table to turn off the lamp.

“I love you.” He calls out to her. “I just want to make sure you know that.”

_I don’t really know where we’re going to go from here, but I feel a little better knowing that we’re doing this together._

He can hear her sniffling.

“I do.” She sounds a little stuffy. “I love you too, Elliot.”

The corners of Elliot’s mouth curl up in a small smile before he sets his head back down and allows himself to fall asleep.


	2. Haze

_ Hey. I just tried calling you but it went straight to voicemail. I just wanted to let you know that I didn’t end up going to Budapest after all. You’re right. I don’t really know what I want, and running away to another fucking country isn’t gonna give me the answers I‘m looking for, so...yeah. I’m still here. When you see this...call me, or whatever. _

_ Okay, not to freak out or anything, but it’s been a couple hours and I still haven’t heard from you. Look, I know I’ve been a huge dick to you literally since day one, but it would be nice to hear back. Even a ‘Fuck you, Darlene, you ruin everything you touch, I don’t ever want to see you again’ would suffice. Just give me some proof that you’re alive. _

_ Where the fuck are you???? It keeps going straight to voicemail every time I call. You didn’t run out of the airport and get yourself into something stupid, did you? _

_ If you hate me, I totally get it, but at least tell me that you hate me instead of leaving me hanging like this. _

_ Hello? _

_ Hi _

_ hEy _

_ ARE YOU THERE _

_ HellooooOOOOoooOoooooOoOOOoo _

_ HEY _

_ HEY YOU _

_HEY ASSHOLE I’M TALKING TO YOU_

_ PICK UP PICK UP PICKUPPICKUPPICKUP PICK IP PICK UP PCICKUPPICKUP POCKUP PIKCUP _

_ EARTH TO DOM _

_ PAGING AGENT DIPIERRO _

* * *

Her phone buzzes on the windowsill. It twitches farther and farther away from the dirty glass pane, inching towards the edge, threatening to throw itself over and plummet towards the cold linoleum floor.

Darlene groans as she stretches in her tiny lounge chair, rolling her neck and raising her arms high above her head before yawning and swinging her legs over so that she’s sitting upright. Her eyes dart to the bed situated just a few feet away, but she doesn’t stare for long. She can’t allow herself to.

She tears her eyes from her unconscious brother and reaches for her phone. When she eyes the missed call notification, followed by the name of a very familiar redhead, she curses under her breath before unlocking her screen and tapping furiously, raising her phone to her ear as she brushes the hair away from her face with her free hand. Her heartbeat is running at least three times faster than the dial tone.

It finally stops after six rings. “Hello?” She sounds tired. Was she just asleep this whole time? Did she finally get the rest she so deserved?

“Jesus, Dom.” Darlene sighs with relief. Her chest finally feels like it’s decompressing a bit. “Where the fuck have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you since yesterday.”

“I know.” There’s a brief pause and a slight shuffling in the background, like she’s walking, or moving something around. “I got your texts not too long ago.”

Darlene narrows her eyes. “Then why the hell haven’t you answered any of them?”

“Because I couldn’t.” Dom replies, and her tone is so annoyingly factual that Darlene wishes she could reach directly into her screen and punch her in the ear. 

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

Another brief pause. “I had to keep my phone off.”

Darlene’s eyes get even narrower. “Why?”

“Because,” That shuffling sound from before makes a comeback. “I was on the plane.”

Darlene nearly drops her phone out of surprise. Her mouth hangs open as her eyes slowly, almost comically widen with shock. “You...” She swallows in a feeble attempt to force down the lump that suddenly materialized in her throat. “You got on the plane?”

“Yeah.” Dom sounds so casual that they could be talking about the weather. “I did.”

Darlene leans forward, hunching over so she can rest her elbows on her knees. Her free hand is rubbing her forehead as she tries to process this. “You came back.”

“I did.” Dom repeats herself. There’s a hint of a smile in her tone. “And you stayed.”

The faint beginnings of an ache begin to pulsate in her chest cavity. She tries to scrounge up any sort of reply, but words are failing her at the moment, so the best she can do right now is laugh out of disbelief.

Dom seems to have gotten it, because she laughs too, and says, “We came back for each other.”

That’s what does it for her. Darlene’s eyes immediately start to sting, and before she knows it her cheeks are damp with tears. She sniffles and runs her sleeve across her face before laughing again. “We are  _ so _ fucking stupid.”

“You’re not as stupid as I am.” Dom’s still laughing. “I stayed on the plane even after I realized you weren’t coming.”

“Why didn’t you get off?”

“Because you were right.” She can picture Dom shrugging like she always does, with one hand buried in her stupid, fake red hair. Darlene briefly wonders what she looks like with her natural hair colour. Is she a blonde or a brunette? “I needed to let go. I...I had to get away. Get some shit sorted out on my own without my job or my family hovering over me.” She pauses for a second. “I think I needed to do this without you too.”

Darlene is suddenly reminded of the annoying lump lodged in her throat. She swallows again, but it stubbornly stays put. “Yeah. I get it.” She does, she really does, but it still sucks.

“It’s got nothing to do with you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Dom insists, but Darlene doesn’t buy it. “I just think it’s something I need to do for myself. I haven’t actually done anything like this since...” She peters off, and then she laughs. “God, I don’t even remember the last time I’ve done anything for myself. That’s depressing.”

“It’s fine, really.” Darlene shakes her head. Her chest is still aching, but it’s for a different reason. “This is a good thing. You were overdue for a vacation anyway.”

“Yeah.” There’s another pause, and then the same shuffling noise. “What about you? Are you holding up okay?”

Her eyes automatically shift back towards her brother, who’s still asleep. “I guess so. A lot’s happened while you were up in the air: Whiterose offed herself, and then Elliot blew up the power plant in our hometown.”

_“What?”_ Darlene can picture Dom’s aghast expression so clearly, almost like she’s standing right in front of her, and it amplifies the ache in her chest. “Jesus H, Darlene. Is he okay?”

“Somehow, yes.” She turns away from the hospital bed and stares at the window. “I guess the room he was in was blast-proof or something, because he barely has a scratch on him. He’s the luckiest asshole in the whole fucking world - or, well...at least he is for now. He’s in for a reckoning when he finally wakes up.” She sighs. “Theres a cop standing guard outside the door to his room, and there’s a bunch more down the hall. Wouldn’t be surprised if the FBI’s here too. They got this place locked the fuck down. I’m surprised they didn’t cuff him to his bed.”

“What the hell do they think he’s gonna do?”

“I dunno, but they won’t let me leave either, so I’m calling this place home for a little while.” Darlene chuckles to herself. “Guess you finally got what you wanted: The cold, unrelenting hands of justice finally have the big bad Aldersons in its clutches.”

“Your trial will be messy, but you’ll also have a ton of public support, and that might help swing things in your favour.” It’s cute how she’s trying to be optimistic. Darlene almost wants to commend her for it. “It’s not like they can make everyone return all the money you stole - well, I guess they could, but that would make the Deus Group look worse than they already do right now thanks to your dox. It’ll only get more people to take your side.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t erase the fact that Elliot and I are most likely going to rot in a jail cell for the rest of our lives.”

“Don’t count yourselves out just yet. I don’t think the court will let all of that talent you guys have go to waste.” There’s that shuffling noise again. “The FBI could recruit you. You could do a working sentence for them, or the military, or Cyber Command. Maybe even the CIA.”

None of these sound appealing, but... “Better than jail, I guess.”

“Exactly.” Dom sighs. Darlene envisions her running a hand through those dark red waves, and the ache inside of her crescendoes. “It’s gonna be okay, Darlene. You guys will find a way out of this. You always do.”

“Yeah, I hope so.” Darlene sighs again. “Get some rest, Dom. You’re probably tired from the flight.” The ache in her chest throbs ruthlessly. “Will I hear from you again?”

It takes a few seconds for Dom to answer back. “Yeah…” There’s another pause. “But not right away. I think…I think I need to be on my own for a little bit. I have a lot of shit to figure out.”

The ache quickly spreads to the rest of her body, rattling every single bone. “Yeah, I get it.” Darlene swallows hard; she pulls her phone away from her face for a second so she can wipe her tears away- and so Dom doesn’t have to listen to her pathetic snivelling.

“It’s got nothing to do with you.” Dom hastily reminds her. “I just-”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” Darlene is certain the redhead can hear how stuffed up she is. “I told you - I get it.”

“Give me a couple of weeks.” Dom’s tone is rueful, and it only makes the tears flow faster. “That’s all I need.”

She forces herself to laugh. “Take as long as you need, Dom. You deserve the time away. Just...” She bites her bottom lip as she reaches up to swipe her sleeve across her face. “You’ll reach out when you’re ready, right?”

“Of course.” Dom immediately responds. “I promise - and when I’m ready, we can talk as much as you want. We’ll talk every day.”

She brightens at this, and she feels stupid for it. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” The shuffling is a tad louder this time. “I gotta go. Try and get some rest, okay? And take care of yourself. Please don’t give me reasons to worry about you.”

She scoffs through her tears. “You should know by now that I’m a pro at making you worry.”

“Darlene, I’m serious.” Dom groans.

“I’ll be okay, I promise.” Darlene swallows. “You don’t have to worry about me. Go and roam Budapest to your heart’s content.” She feels like crying again for some reason. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay.” Dom sounds hesitant. “I’ll be in touch soon.”

“Yeah.” Darlene hangs up and pouts at her blank screen for a second before tossing her phone back on the windowsill. A lot just happened in that conversation, and she really isn’t sure how to interpret any of it, but at least she knows Dom’s okay. That’s what really matters.

Darlene settles into the uncomfortable chair, swivelling around so that her legs are dangling off the armrest, and she sighs before crossing her arms and closing her eyes. Surprisingly, sleep takes over quickly, and she dreams of grey eyes, nervous laughter, and faded tattoos.

* * *

“Dar.”

“Yo, Dar. You alive, girl?”

“Hey. Come back to Earth.”

She comes to in the middle of a busy living room. She doesn’t think she’s been here before; this place looks unfamiliar. Whose apartment is this, and who are all these people? There’s terrible music blasting from a Bluetooth speaker somewhere. She can hear millions of conversations overlapping each other.

“Hello?” She languidly turns her head and finds one vaguely familiar face sitting next to her on this couch she’s never seen before. “Jesus, you scared me for a second. Are you okay?”

Darlene can’t remember this person’s name, but she thinks she’s seen her before. She’s pretty sure she’s the same chick who gave her the stuff that made her go into a blind rage a month back at Angela’s apartment. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She instinctively pulls out her phone, and when she comes up with a blank screen she defeatedly shoves it back into her pocket before running her thin fingers through her hair.

“You waiting for someone?” The girl who may or may not have been at Angela’s back in December speaks up again. “You’ve been checking your phone all night.”

Darlene is in no mood to indulge her right now. She spots a tabloid magazine with her and Elliot’s faces on it sitting on the coffee table. On top of her and Elliot’s faces are several lines of something white and powdery.

She immediately pulls herself to the edge of the couch, reaching for one of the small straws piled in the middle of the table. She effortlessly inhales one line, blinking rapidly as she throws her head back to let it settle in. She dabs her pinky on the magazine, picking up whatever stray pieces she didn’t catch, and rubs it into her gums.

“You sure you should be doing that?” Is she going to be bothering her all night? “You’ve already done-”

“I’m leaving.” Darlene rises up on shaky legs. The room is spinning a bit. What time is it? What day is it? Where is she?

“I don’t think that’s a-”

“I’m leaving.” She repeats herself as she stumbles through the crowd. Where the hell is the front door?

“Hey.” A group of guys she’s never seen before are suddenly standing in front of her. The one that’s speaking to her has greasy hair. “So, like...is it true?”

“Dude,” She growls. “Can you move? I’m just trying to leave.”

“But...” His eyes are red and glazed over. “Is it true, though?”

She heaves a frustrated sigh. “Is  _ what  _ true?”

“About you and your bro.” Greasy Hair is holding a red Solo cup filled to the brim with flat beer. “You guys are just, like, scapegoats or some shit.”

Darlene narrows her eyes. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“You know.” Greasy Hair vaguely gestures with his free hand. “Like, you’re distracting the media by taking the fall for everything so the  _ real _ guys behind fsociety can keep doing what they’re doing. You’re, like, their martyrs or whatever. The sacrificial lambs.”

“Can you actually code?” One of the other guys speaks up. “Did you really write the rootkit that put AllSafe in the shitter or did you just say you did?”

She’s going to end up killing someone if she sticks around any longer.

“Get the fuck out of my way.” She forces her way through the group, intentionally shouldering the asshole who questioned her coding capabilities before finally locating the door. She can hear them snickering behind her, and she briefly turns around to flip them off before stumbling out into the hallway.

It takes a Herculean effort to descend the steps without tripping and shattering a few bones. She somehow makes it out of wherever the hell she was and back onto the streets, but everything looks so strange and foreign. She doesn’t even remember how she got here.

She just needs to find a subway station. Once she finds one, she’ll be good.

But what’s the point of finding a subway station if she has nowhere else to go?

Her heart is starting to pound; a telltale sign that whatever she snorted is starting to kick in. Darlene plucks her phone out of her pocket again, and when her screen turns up blank for the umpteenth time she grits her teeth and holds it above her head with the attention to launch it into oncoming traffic - but she stops herself and lets out a shaky sigh before slipping it back into her jeans.

She hates that she can’t go five fucking minutes without checking. She hates that she’s here, fucked up and in an unfamiliar part of the city. She hates that she broke her promises to both Dom and her brother so soon after making them. What is she doing? What is the point of this? What is she trying to prove?

She should be with Elliot. She should be with him in his shitty apartment. She should be helping him process everything he’s been going through lately. She should be there for him like she said she would. She should be trying to be the sister he needs her to be. She should be sober and not hopped up on whatever she can drink, snort, or pop first.

She thought that her brother suffering from a serious mental illness was heavy enough. Elliot divulging the truth about their dad and all of the shitty, horrible things he did to him without her knowing was  not what she was expecting to hear when he woke up for the second time in the hospital that day and said that he had something to tell her. She should be glad that he finally mustered up the courage to say something about it, but at the same time a part of her wishes he never said anything. It’s been eating away at her, little by little, every single day since they had that terrible conversation. It makes her look even worse than she already does. Running away when he needed her most was bad enough, but now that she knows  _ why _ he was suffering so much, she just can’t handle it. She can’t deal with knowing she abandoned him, leaving him to suffer alone. This was the last thing she needed to her after having that last conversation with Dom - the only other person in her life that she cares about but doesn’t deserve, because she hurt her just like she hurt all the other people who came before her.

She thinks about the redhead and the tears quickly blur everything in front of her. The ache comes back with a vengeance; it’s a scream that echoes violently inside of her, infecting every cell that makes up who she is. She remembers the way Dom told her to not give her reasons to worry, and the ache becomes so loud she has to lean against a lamppost to keep herself from collapsing on this dirty sidewalk. It hurts, but she can’t stop herself from thinking about it. It’s pathetically masochistic.

She needs it to stop hurting, and she needs it to stop hurting  _ now. _

Darlene aggressively rubs at her eyes before clumsily making her way towards the end of the block. There has to be a bar around here somewhere. She doesn’t even know if it’s past last call; she has no idea how late it is, but she doesn’t want to check her phone for the time. She can’t bring herself to look at that blank screen again.

Just one drink. Just a little something to take off the edge. Something to soothe the ache for now.

One drink isn’t going to hurt.

* * *

She said to give her  _ a couple of weeks. _

She  is  aware that  _ a couple of weeks  _ means  _ two weeks,  _ right? Surely she can count.

No. This isn’t her fault. She can’t expect her to put a strict deadline for processing all the horrific shit she’s been through in the past few months - all the horrific shit  _ she _ put her through in the past few months. Two weeks is barely enough time.

 _ She’s far away because of you. She needs time away from you because you are at the epicentre of everything that went wrong for her.  _ You _ are the reason why she needs a couple of weeks. _

Whatever the fuck that means.

Darlene wakes up at four in the afternoon on a couch she doesn’t remember passing out on. Another stranger’s apartment. Another messy aftermath of a night she can barely recall. There are a few people strewn on the floor, somehow looking drunker and more burnt out than her. It makes her feel  _ slightly  _ better about herself. Just a bit.

Her phone buzzes, and she eagerly pulls it out of her pocket to check, but her hopes are dashed when she finds a message from her brother. She should feel guilty for feeling disappointed; Elliot’s been trying to get a hold of her for almost three weeks now, but she’s been purposely avoiding him lately, only sticking around for their court hearings. She doesn’t want him to see her like this.

But maybe he should. Maybe he can pull her out of this hole she dug and flung herself into. He can help.

Is it worth it, though? She’s already proven how terrible she is at keeping promises.

She picks her jacket and backpack off the floor and rises to her feet, only to be overcome with a wave of dizziness, and sits back down a second later. She still feels a little off kilter; how fucked up did she get last night?

She rises up again, a little slower this time, forcing herself to ignore the weakness in her knees and the pounding in her head, tiptoes out of the apartment, and heads into the first bodega she sees so she can order the tallest, strongest coffee available. It’s starting to snow a bit, which kind of sucks seeing as she doesn’t have anywhere to go right now. She could go to her brother’s, but that would mean having to explain what she’s been up to lately, and she really isn’t in the mood for that conversation right now.

“Oh my God.” The wide eyed cashier gapes at her before handing over her drink.

Darlene quirks an eyebrow. “What?”

“You’re that girl.” The cashier laughs out of disbelief. “The one that’s all over the news. You’re that hacker who gave everyone all that money.”

Shit. She completely forgot that she’s the centre of unwanted attention.

“Yup.” Darlene hastily raises her phone to pay for her coffee, pulls her hood over her head, and slips on her heart-shaped sunglasses. She can feel almost everyone in the shop staring at her as she turns on her heel and makes a speedy exit. 

The incident cranks up her paranoia for the rest of the day. She spends the next few hours trying to walk off the anxiety, but it feels like everyone’s eyes are on her no matter where she goes. She decides to ride the subway for a little bit to stay away from the cold, but the rush hour crowds are making her nervous, and before she knows it she’s back on the streets with a lukewarm cup of coffee and no idea where to go. Everywhere feels unsafe right now.

Okay, no. That’s not true. There’s  one place she can go to. She just doesn’t want to.

She ducks into an alleyway, tosses her half-finished coffee into a dumpster, and pulls out her phone. Another blank screen. She doesn’t know why she keeps checking when she already knows what she’s going to find.

It’s getting late, which means it’s going to get colder, and it doesn’t look like the snow is letting up soon. She needs to find a place to crash for the night or else she’s going to freeze to death.

Elliot’s apartment isn’t too far from here. It’s starting to look like she doesn’t have much else of a choice.

Sighing in defeat, Darlene pockets her phone and starts the short trek to her brother’s place. When she gets there nearly half an hour later, she recoils at the crowd of reporters and fsociety disciples gathered by the front steps. There’s no way she’s going to get in without pushing through all of that.

She sucks in a breath and mentally counts to ten before striding forward and squeezing herself into the fray, strategically angling her head so that her hood is concealing most of her face. It doesn’t work, unfortunately; the mob immediately figures out who she is and they swarm her, bombarding her with questions.

“How did you steal all of that money?”

“Is it true your brother’s responsible for The 71?”

“Is Tyrell Wellick really dead?”

“Does Elliot really suffer from Dissociative Personality Disorder? Is he mentally fit to stand trial? Will he try for the insanity plea?”

Darlene can feel the beginnings of a panic attack scratching at her insides. Her chest is starting to contract, and there’s an uncomfortable heat beating on the back of her neck even though it’s below freezing outside. She struggles to make her way through the frenzy, but there are way too many people blocking the part of the sidewalk that leads to the front steps.

“You guys really spoke to me.” An fsociety supporter speaks up somewhere behind her.

“You did the right thing!” Another pipes up. “You’re heroes!”

“I paid off my student debt because of you!” A girl wearing a  _ Remember Five/Nine _ button on her jacket beams at her.

“Fuck society!” Some dude wearing a black hoodie and an fsociety mask shouts, pumping his fist in the air. The rest of the fsociety supporters chant along with him; a good number of them are also decked out in black hoodies and masks. It became a weird sort of uniform ever since their trial started.

The reporters thankfully pick up on this nonsense and force their camera operators to focus on them, which gives Darlene the perfect opportunity to slip inside the building largely unnoticed. She rushes up the stairs just as her panic attack comes full swing; she starts to hyperventilate as she drags herself down the hall towards Elliot’s door. She barely has the strength to pick the lock, and when she finally heads inside she crumbles to the ground and tries to catch her breath, yanking off her glasses, tossing her backpack aside, and frantically worming out of her jacket. She can barely see an inch in front of her nose; everything is faint and covered in stars.

It takes her a few minutes to come down. By the end of it, she’s splayed out on the floor in the middle of her brother’s apartment with her mascara running down her face. When she’s finally able to breathe again, she takes a look around and notices that she’s alone. Elliot must’ve popped out for a second.

She can still hear the “Fuck society” chants coming from outside, and it’s making her nervous. She knows she’s safe here, but it doesn’t  feel that way. A part of her thinks they’ll knock the front door down and close in on her.

Darlene automatically pulls out her phone, but she doesn’t bother looking at it. She already knows there’s nothing waiting for her, and that only adds to her mounting anxiety. She needs a distraction. Something to placate her.

She raises her head to stare at the bathroom door.

Maybe Elliot might have something that’ll do the trick.

* * *

She quietly slips out of Elliot’s bed, groaning and rubbing her temples before snatching her phone off the table and shuffling into the bathroom. She opens the medicine cabinet, grabs the bottle of aspirin, and quickly pops two pills into her mouth before turning on the sink to splash some cold water on her face.

Darlene tiptoes back into her brother’s apartment, her eyes lingering on Elliot for a few seconds. He’s stretched out across the couch with his head turned away from her. It’s too dark to figure out if he’s legitimately asleep or not, but she concludes she doesn’t care. She just needs some fresh air. After the pep talk her brother gave her a few hours ago, running off and diving headfirst into another bender doesn’t sound so appealing anymore. The self-loathing and half-assed partying with random strangers got old fast. He’s right; they made a promise to get better together, and she needs to stop feeling sorry for herself and actually make an effort at not being a terrible person. If she won’t do it for herself, she should do it for him. She owes him that.

She lumbers down the stairs and sighs in relief when she pushes the front door open and finds the steps completely unoccupied. It’s nearly one in the morning; the reporters and fsociety fanatics left hours ago, but they’ll probably be back the second the sun comes up. She needs to relish these few hours of blissful solitude.

Darlene takes a seat at the topmost step, pulls out a crinkled packet of cigarettes from her jacket pocket with one hand, and unlocks her phone with the other. Still no missed calls or unread texts. Two and a half weeks and absolutely nothing.

Sighing again, she drops her phone on her lap so she can stick a cigarette into the corner of her mouth and light it. It stopped snowing, but the mid-January air is still frigid and unrelenting; it’s stinging her cheeks and her knees are knocking together.

Despite all of the shitty things they’ve been forced to put up with since his release from the hospital, Elliot seems to be taking things surprisingly well. In fact, he’s making this whole trial, the _ one of my alternate personalities stuck me in a dream world for a whole year  _ debacle, and the shitty truth about their dad look like a fucking walk in the park. Or maybe he’s just better at coping with shit than she is. After everything he’s been through, it’s no doubt he has thicker skin.

She takes a long drag as she absentmindedly scrolls through social media. More baseless articles about her and Elliot (They got the name of their elementary school wrong; who did the research for this, if any was done at all?), business reports on the economical upturn that followed the redistribution of money they stole from the Deus Group - the usual shit.

Darlene swipes to her call history and sucks in a sharp breath when her eyes pore over Dom’s name sitting in the middle of her incoming calls list. She swallows hard, chewing on her bottom lip as she thinks back to the chat they had back in the hospital and the hazy days that followed. Everything kind of bleeds together; she can’t tell one night from the other.

She promised her that she wouldn’t give her reasons to worry, but old habits die hard. Maybe she’s just born a coward. Maybe it’s her destiny. Maybe it’s all she’ll ever be, and no matter what she does she’s just going to be this terrible person forever who doesn’t know how to be the sister her brother needs her to be, or the person who’s good enough to deserve Dom’s time and attention. Maybe this is all pointless. Maybe she should just leave right now and find a random bar to walk into, or a party to crash. Maybe-

The phone in her hand starts to buzz. 


End file.
